


Basic Principles of Archiving Photographs

by onemechanicalalligator



Series: In That Big Somewhere Out There [2]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Family, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Photographs, Post-Canon, Same-Sex Marriage, Slice of Life, trobaby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25960579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemechanicalalligator/pseuds/onemechanicalalligator
Summary: Snapshots of Troy and Abed's life as they raise their daughter.Takes place after "Selected Variations on Reunification" but can probably be read on its own with minimal confusion.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Series: In That Big Somewhere Out There [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883977
Comments: 38
Kudos: 131





	Basic Principles of Archiving Photographs

It’s late in the evening, and it’s raining outside, which seems appropriate. Troy has built a fire in the fireplace, which they almost never do, and he and Abed are on the couch, sitting close together, paging through a thick leather bound photo album.

Their daughter Carrie is upstairs finishing up the last of her packing. She is leaving for college in the morning.

* * *

**[PHOTO:**

**_Troy and Abed on the red carpet. They are wearing matching black tuxedos. Troy has a Spiderman bowtie and Abed has a Batman bowtie. Abed is wearing Carrie, 9 months, in a dark purple carrier across his front. She is in light purple footie pajamas and has a mop of dark brown hair. She appears to be asleep. Troy and Abed have huge grins on their faces and they are both pointing proudly at Carrie._ ]**

“Are you gonna take her up there with you?” Troy whispers. “If you win?”

“I probably won’t win,” Abed hisses. “So it doesn’t matter.”

“But if you do. You’ll take her, right? She deserves to have that experience, Abed. She _deserves this.”_

“If it means that much to you, I’ll bring her up with me. But it’s really not going to matter, because I probably won’t win.”

He wins.

Of course.

He tries to remain stoic when they announce it, because he knows the camera is on him. He stands up.

“I knew you’d win,” Troy whispers. “Be good, Carrie!”

The whole time he walks up to the stage, he thinks that this was probably a bad idea, because Carrie is going to start crying, and then Troy will start crying because he won’t be able to do anything help Carrie stop crying, and Abed is so overwhelmed by pretty much everything that honestly, it wouldn’t surprise him if he started crying too…

And then he’s on stage, and the applause is deafening, and he wishes he could see Troy from where he’s standing, but he can’t, so he focuses on Carrie instead. She’s heavy against his chest, and when he looks down he sees that she’s awake, but miraculously, she’s not crying. He smiles down at her.

“Thank you so much,” Abed says into the microphone. “It’s an honor to win Best Director. I’m not great at speeches, and I hope the whole cast and crew already know much I appreciate them. In case they don’t: thank you all. I also want to thank the two most important people in my life: my husband Troy and my daughter Carrie.”

He’s pretty sure Carrie doesn’t know her name yet, but now he can’t be sure because as soon as he thanks her she starts squawking and babbling in baby talk. Abed doesn’t think about what he’s doing, he just grabs the microphone and positions it in front of her mouth, and Carrie gives her own acceptance speech that ends in thunderous applause.

Then she starts to scream, and Abed hightails it back to their seats and hands her to Troy, who is already crying right along with her, and they sob in symphony as Troy takes her out of the auditorium and Abed sits alone, dazed, wondering what just happened.

* * *

**[PHOTO:**

**_Carrie, 18 months old, sits in Troy’s lap wrapped up in a fluffy blue towel, clearly fresh from the bath. Her hair is shiny and curly and Troy is pretending to touch it, but Abed’s hand is in the frame and very obviously keeping Troy from doing just that._ ]**

Troy steps into the den and finds Abed at the computer, the glow of the screen the only source of light in the room.

“It’s midnight, Abed,” he says softly. “Are you coming to bed anytime soon?” 

“This is urgent, Troy,” Abed says very seriously, not looking away from the computer.

“Oh my god, what happened?” 

“Our daughter’s hair is long enough now that it’s become obvious that it’s going to be very curly. _Did you know there’s an entire method we need to follow to take care of it?”_ Now Abed turns to face Troy, his eyes wide and a little panicked.

“A method?” Troy squawks. “No one said anything about a method!” He grabs a chair and pulls it next to Abed’s and sits down. There are about 20 tabs open in the web browser. Half of them appear to be from YouTube, the other half from various hair care blogs.

“I’ve accumulated some videos and some lists of products and ingredients to avoid,” Abed says. “And then there are some other lists of things that are recommended. It’s...it’s going to be a lot of trial and error, I think.”

“Okay,” Troy says, determined. “Okay. We can do this. We can figure this out.”

“I agree,” Abed says. “I know it feels overwhelming. But it’s for Carrie.”

“It’s for Carrie,” Troy agrees. “And she’s going to have the best curls anyone has ever seen.”

“In the morning, I’m going to start making spreadsheets from these lists,” Abed says. “But right now, I’m too wound up to sleep. Want to watch some of these tutorials with me?”

“I want to watch _all of them_ with you,” Troy says. “Let’s do this.”

They stay up most of the night watching videos and taking notes. When Troy finally goes to bed, Abed opens up Excel and starts to curate lists of what products to try and which ones to avoid, and then he places an order on Amazon for miniature versions of all of them. 

It ends up being an arduous process, because while Carrie’s hair can be temperamental, Abed is also very sensitive to smells, and some of the products they try have to be thrown out for fragrance reasons before they even test them. Slowly but surely, though, they figure out a routine that all three of them can tolerate, and they never stop getting compliments on their daughter’s curls.

* * *

**[PHOTO:**

**_Taken from the back: Three director’s chairs in a row, the middle one child-size. Abed is sitting in the first one, which has DIRECTOR printed on the back. His head is turned towards the camera and he’s giving a thumbs up. Carrie, 3, is sitting in the child-size one, which has SMALL DIRECTOR printed on the back. Her head is turned towards the camera and she is wearing sunglasses and sticking out her tongue. Troy is sitting in the third chair, which has BUTTSOUP printed on the back. His head is turned towards the camera and he is grinning and pointing at the letters on his chair._ ]**

The chairs were a Christmas gift from Troy -- that’s the only way he got away with printing BUTTSOUP on his. He brings them to the set one day, along with Carrie, so that they can visit Abed. They do it pretty regularly, and everyone loves Carrie, so no one minds. Troy likes to think they like him, too, they just aren’t as vocal about it because he’s not _quite_ as cute.

“She’s going to be able to read someday, you know,” Abed says sternly as Troy sets up the chairs.

“I’ll get a new one at that point,” Troy counters. “Also, it could have been much worse. I’m just saying. I could have made it say SLU--”

“Okay, okay, I believe you,” Abed says, and kisses him on the forehead. “I’m at _work,”_ he reminds him. 

“MINE!” shouts Carrie, running up and pointing at her chair. “This mine, Daddy,” she adds solemnly when Troy gets down on his knee next to her, and he nods.

“It _is_ yours,” he says. “But we have to keep our voices down when we’re at Baba’s work, okay? Shh.”

“SHH!” she cries, putting a finger up to her lips. She turns to Abed. “SHH, BABA.”

“Well, you’ve got the right idea,” Abed says fondly, and picks her up, bouncing her on his hip. She giggles.

“Wait, you’re missing something,” Troy says, and walks up behind them. He puts a pair of dark sunglasses on Carrie’s face, and she squeals with delight. “Now you look like a real director,” he says.

“Baba got glasses?” she asks, pointing to Abed, who looks at Troy and tilts his head.

“Got ‘em right here,” he says, pulling out the sunglasses he keeps around in case Abed gets sensitive to the light. He places them carefully on Abed’s nose.

“We’ll have to get some for you,” Abed muses, and Troy nods enthusiastically. 

“We could be like the Blues Brothers!” Troy says. “And their daughter! If they weren’t brothers, and they were gay married instead! And none of the stuff from the movies happened!”

“So, we’d be nothing like the Blues Brothers, then.”

“We’d be wearing sunglasses. _Duh-doy.”_ Troy rolls his eyes.

“I love you,” Abed says, also rolling his eyes. He hands Carrie to Troy and slides the glasses up so they’re on top of his head.

“I’ll be right back,” he says. “We have to start shooting pretty soon.”

He heads off to do Important Director Things, and Troy and Carrie watch from a distance as people start to arrange themselves according to pieces of tape on the floor, and other people move things around, and Troy thinks it looks a little intense, and he’s glad he’s not actually involved. 

“It’s a movie,” Carrie tells Troy in confidence. 

“It’s gonna be a great movie, isn’t it?” Troy asks.

“Great movie,” Carrie repeats, and nods, and bounces a couple of times.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Troy asks, not knowing how long Abed will be busy.

“Nope. Nope, nope, nope,” she says. “My chair.”

“Do you want to sit in your chair?”

Carrie nods, and then Abed walks back up to them, running a hand through his hair and looking a little frazzled. 

“Everything good?” Troy sets Carrie in her chair and then snakes an arm around Abed’s waist and squeezes.

“Yup,” Abed says. “Chaos, as usual. But we’re about ready to start this take. Want to stay and watch?”

“Definitely,” Troy says.

They sit down in their own chairs so that the three of them are all sitting in a row. Carrie adjusts her sunglasses and someone on set shouts something to Abed.

“Ready, Carrie?” Abed asks. “You know what to do.”

“ACTION!” she screams at the people in front of them, who all stop what they’re doing and look at Abed.

“You heard her!” he shouts. “Get to work!”

* * *

**[PHOTO:**

**_Carrie, 5, tucked into the top bunk of a bunk bed in her room. Troy is on the bottom bunk holding the covers open as if waiting for someone to join him. (That someone is obviously Abed, but he’s busy taking the picture.) He is reaching one hand up to the railing on the top bunk, and Carrie is holding onto it. She is surrounded by stuffed animals and looks nervous._ ] **

“There’s monsters,” Carrie whispers, the covers pulled up to her chin and her eyes huge and glassy. “I think they’re in the closet.”

“Well, no good ever comes from anyone being the closet,” Troy mutters, standing next to the bed. She’s on the top bunk, so they’re just about at eye level.

“What?”

“Nothing. Do you want me to stay with you?” he asks.

“Get Baba, too,” she says. “Just in case.”

“You want me to leave you and go get him?”

“No, text him,” Carrie says. “Don’t leave me, okay?”

“I won’t,” Troy says, pulling out his phone and marveling at the fact that they live in a world where his five-year-old just told him to text her other dad from inside the same house. “I promise.”

 **TEXT MESSAGE: HUBBY <3** **  
****Monster patrol in Carrie’s room!!!**

Abed shows up a few minutes later in his pajamas and rushes up to the side of the bed. He’s carrying an empty paintball gun.

“What’s the situation?” he asks.

“Monsters in the closet,” Carrie says, her voice wavering a little, and Troy’s heart twinges.

“I already made the joke,” Troy says, before Abed can open his mouth. “It would have gone over better if you’d been in here, though.”

Abed stifles a laugh and takes Carrie’s hand.

“We are here for you,” he says. “We’ll keep you safe. Do you want us to sleep in the bottom bunk tonight?”

“Yeah,” she says, and Troy can see her squeezing Abed’s hand.

“I brought this,” Abed says, holding up the paintball gun. “It has monster repellent in it. Just in case.”

Carrie nods and even under the comforter, Troy can see her small shoulders relax a little bit.

“I’m going to go and put on my jammies, okay?” Troy says. “I’ll be right back. Baba will stay with you, right?”

“Absolutely,” Abed says. He briefly lets go of Carrie’s hand so he and Troy can do their handshake, and then he runs his hand through her hair and lets it rest on her forehead.

Troy changes quickly, and when he gets back Abed is whispering something in Carrie’s ear.

“What did I miss?” Troy asks.

“Baba said one time you made a blanket fort,” Carrie says.

“The first blanket fort,” Abed says out of the corner of his mouth, which is a relief, because they try not to talk about the second one.

“We did, and it was epic,” Troy says. “It was when we were at college.”

“I wanna make a fort at college,” she says, her voice starting to sound drowsy.

“Someday I’m sure you will,” Abed says. “But right now, do you feel like trying to sleep? We’ll be right below you.”

“Okay,” she says, and yawns. “Will you sing?”

“Sure,” Abed says, and kisses her on the forehead. Then he steps aside so that Troy can do the same.

“Goodnight,” Troy whispers. “Sweet dreams.”

Abed turns out the light and they both get into bed. It reminds Troy of sharing the bottom bunk in their apartment in Colorado, and it’s nice.

“Ready?” Abed whispers in his ear.

“Always,” Troy whispers back, and Abed begins to sing the familiar lullaby, and Troy gets ready to come in on his verse.

_“Somewhere out there, beneath the pale moonlight…”_

* * *

**[PHOTO:**

**_Troy and Carrie are standing next to a wire cage holding three rats. Carrie, 7, has a huge grin on her face and is poking a finger in to touch one of them. Troy is obviously trying very hard not to freak out. Abed’s hand is in the frame, resting on Troy’s shoulder as if to reassure him._ ]**

It’s Carrie’s job to feed the rats. It’s _always_ Carrie’s job, that’s why they let her get the rats in the first place, after she begged and promised, and Abed thought she was old enough for the responsibility, and Troy couldn’t bear to crush her dreams, despite how he feels about rats. 

And to be fair, she’s done a great job at taking care of Remy and Splinter and Rizzo so far, and only complained a few times, and anyway, it’s not really her fault this time. She’s been invited to her first sleepover, and she’s so excited, and they’re not going to deny her that just because of one small rat responsibility.

Except Abed has to stay late on set tonight, which means Troy is at home with the rats, he’s the one who’s going to have to feed them. He’s spent literally the entire day psyching himself up for it (and texting Abed updates about his progress) and Abed isn’t at all confident that this is going to go smoothly. 

He gets a video call from Troy after dinner, and Abed can see that he’s standing clear across the room from the table that holds their cage. 

“How’s it going?” Abed asks, and Troy’s face comes into view, and he looks a lot like that time at the hospital when he met LeVar Burton for the first time, way back before he was a sailing companion and a good family friend.

Troy opens his mouth and screeches, “Rats…!”

“Yes, they're rats,” Abed says soothingly. “Their names are Rizzo and Remy and Splinter and you’ve been acquainted for several months now, remember?”

“Rats…!” Troy pleads again, his eyes big as saucers.

“You can do this,” Abed says. “You’re doing it for Carrie. Remember?”

Troy nods slowly.

“Can you take a few steps closer?” Abed asks. “I’m right here. You’ve got this.”

“For Carrie,” Troy gulps, and inches closer.

“Tell me about how it was when you dropped her off,” Abed says. “While you work on getting closer to the cage. Can you do that?”

“Uh-huh,” Troy says, and takes another step. “She was _so_ excited.”

“Yeah? Tell me more. What did she take with her?”

“Um, PJs,” Troy says, shuffling forward. “Change of clothes...toothbrush...sleeping bag.” He stops.

“What else?” Abed asks. “Keep going.”

“A few dolls. The Cabbage Patch doll and the brown-haired Barbie and that ragdoll Annie sent.”

“Adelaide and Marie and Amelia,” Abed confirms. “Solid choices.” He hears someone yelling at him. “Hold on a second, okay?”

“Okay,” Troy croaks.

“Hey, Abed!” calls one of the producers. “We’re on the clock! I don’t know what you’re--”

“I’m in the middle of something,” Abed snaps, holding up a stern finger.

“But we need to--”

“Unless _you_ want to want to be the one to inform my daughter that her beloved pet rats ran away because my husband couldn’t feed them, I _suggest_ you let me keep doing what I’m doing,” Abed interrupts coldly.

He glares at the producer, who opens his mouth, then closes it and stalks away.

“Sorry about that,” Abed says, holding the phone back up so he can see Troy. “How’s it going?”

“Wow, that was kind of hot,” Troy breathes.

“Good. Use that to distract yourself and go feed those rats.”

“I can do this,” Troy says shakily.

“You really, really can,” Abed encourages him. “You’re almost there.”

Troy doesn’t say anything else, but Abed thinks he can see him whispering to himself as he continues to approach the cage. Finally, he arrives, and even though he makes a huge mess of pretty much everything involved, he manages to feed them.

“I did it!” he cries, holding the phone close to his face so it fills up Abed’s whole screen.

“You did it, and I love you, and they’re going to fire me if I don’t get back to work,” Abed says, grinning. “I’ll see you in a couple hours. Don’t get into too much trouble while both of us are away.”

“I’ll try,” Troy says. “Love you too.” He blows a kiss before the screen goes blank.

* * *

**[PHOTO:**

**_Carrie, 9, tucked into bed, and Abed laying next to her holding a book. The lights are dim and he is reading aloud to her. The book he is reading from is “The Hobbit,” by J.R.R. Tolkien. They are both pointing to something on one of the pages._ ]**

“Have you read this before, Baba?” Carrie asks, snuggling her head against Abed’s shoulder.

“Oh, lots of times,” Abed says. “There are movies, too, you know. And other books that I can read you when you’re a little older.”

“Are they about Bilbo, too?” Abed knows Bilbo is her favorite, knows that she wishes to live in a Hobbit-hole and eat seed cakes.

“Some more than others,” he says. “You’ll see.”

“I like the pictures,” she says. 

“So do I,” Abed agrees.

“Doesn’t Daddy want to read with us?” Carrie asks. Sometimes they cram the whole family in bed to read together, now that they’ve traded the bunk bed for a regular one.

“He’ll be here really soon,” Abed says. “He’s just finishing something up.”

As if on cue, Troy walks in carrying a plate with three small round loaves on it.

“What’s that?” Carrie says, sitting up in bed.

“I made seed cakes,” Troy replies. “It’s a special occasion.”

“What’s the special occasion?” Carrie asks.

“That I learned how to make seed cakes!” Troy says. “Also, I programmed the Dreamatorium to render a simulation of a Hobbit-hole, just in case you ever need it.”

“Cool!” says Carrie. “Wanna come sit on the bed with us?”

They rearrange themselves so they are sitting with their backs to the wall, all in a row, the plate of seed cakes in front of them. While they eat, Carrie and Abed tell Troy about the chapter they just read, and he acts very surprised and impressed, even though Abed knows Troy has read _The Hobbit_ almost as many times as he has. He knows that because he’s the one who read it aloud to Troy most of those times, once over Skype when Troy was on the boat, and again later in their humble LA apartment when they were reunited, and a third time during the final few months while they were waiting for Carrie to be born.

There’s one seed cake for each of them, and they’re pretty delicious, and Troy left the seeds out of Abed’s, knowing he’s weird about textures, and it’s been all these years and Abed still gets a little choked up when Troy does these things for him without him even having to ask. He lets Troy take over the conversation while he composes himself and nibbles on his cake.

Carrie starts to get drowsy as they talk, so Troy moves the plate to the desk and Abed takes her to brush her teeth. They tuck her into bed together, not knowing how long they’ll be able to keep doing things like this before Carrie decides she’s too old for them, and they each give her a hug and a kiss.

“Goodnight, Baba,” she says sleepily. “Goodnight, Daddy. Thanks for the Hobbit stuff.”

 _“Sweetest dreams, Carrie Geneva,”_ they sing together, to the tune of _Troy and Abed in the Morning,_ as they’ve done hundreds of times over the last nine years.

* * *

**[PHOTO:**

**_Carrie, Troy, and Abed in front of their house on Halloween. Carrie is 11 years old. She is dressed as Princess Leia, complete with buns on each side of her head. Troy is Lando Calrissian, and Abed is Han Solo, because of course they are._ ] **

“Carrie,” Abed says solemnly. “This is a very important moment for your dad and me.”

“Okay,” Carrie says. “Is it Halloween related? I thought we were picking out this year’s family Halloween costumes.”

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” Troy chimes in. “We’ve had these costumes set aside since before you were born. We wanted to wait for the right time, when we knew you could truly appreciate them.”

“Oh my gosh,” says Carrie. “Is it _finally_ Star Wars time??”

“It’s finally Star Wars time!” Abed exclaims, and pulls out three boxes. “Troy Barnes, I bestow upon you the sacred apparel of Lando Calrissian.”

Troy takes the box and bows to Abed.

“For myself, the celebrated vestments of Han Solo,” Abed continues, setting the next box down beside his chair. “And finally, for you, Miss Carrie Geneva Nadir Barnes, I present the garments of Leia Organa, first a princess, later a general, and all around badass, portrayed onscreen by the one and only Carrie Fisher, who was equally badass, and who you were named for.”

“Baba! You can’t say that word!”

“This is an historic moment, my Carrie,” he says easily. “Sometimes, exceptions are called for.”

“Are we also making an exception to the weirdness that is my dad dressing up as my character’s love interest?”

“We debated it at length,” Troy admits. “But we ultimately decided we’re willing to overlook the weird factor because the costumes are just _that_ awesome. Also, we probably won’t be together much on actual Halloween -- you were going to ask us to go trick-or-treating with your friends this year, right?”

“How did you know?” Carrie asks, wide-eyed. 

“Heidi’s mom called us to see if you were going to be spending the night over there,” Abed explains. “How come you haven’t asked us yet?”

“Halloween is a really big deal to you guys,” she says shyly. “I didn’t want to disappoint you by not spending it with you.”

“We always knew this day would come,” Troy sighs, tears in his eyes. “Our little girl is growing up.”

“Okay, it’s still just Halloween, Dad,” Carrie says, laughing and rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, _Dad,”_ Abed teases, and puts an arm around Troy’s shoulders. “Carrie, want to hang out with us for a little while during the day on Halloween, and then we can take you to Heidi’s later for trick-or-treating and the sleepover?”

“Yeah!” she exclaims. “That sounds awesome.”

“Cool,” Abed says. “Cool, cool, cool. Now, let’s go upstairs and start figuring out how to get your hair up in Leia’s iconic buns.”

* * *

**[PHOTO:**

**_Carrie is in front of the house with Troy and Abed on either side of her. She is 13 years old. She’s wearing a red formal dress, her hair curly and partially pinned up on the sides. She is carrying a small purse and has black flats on. Her makeup is impeccable. She is getting ready to go to her first school dance. Troy and Abed are dressed in normal clothes, and both look like they are trying very hard not to freak out._ ]**

“So, there’s a dance at school next Friday,” Carrie says carefully over dinner. “And I think I want to go.”

“Your first school dance!” Troy shouts, a million thoughts immediately flooding his brain. “That’s so exciting! And terrifying! As a father, I mean, it’s terrifying, it’s probably not terrifying for you. Or is it? Are you terrified? Are you going with someone?” Out of the corner of his eye, he can vaguely see Carrie’s eyes growing very, very wide.

“Troy,” Abed says in a very calm voice. “Do you want to take a minute to breathe and then try that again?”

Troy nods, takes a deep breath, and tries to clear his head. He focuses on one thought at a time, and tries to pick out the most important ones. Then he takes a sip of water for good measure.

“Are you excited, Carrie?” he asks, in what he hopes is a much more controlled, grown-up voice.

“Yeah, I am,” she says, noticeably more relaxed than a second ago.

“Are you, um, going with a boy?” Troy asks, trying to keep his chill but unable to quell his curiosity.

“Or a girl?” Abed adds quickly. “Way to be heteronormative, Troy.”

“Comp het brain,” Troy apologizes. “Pops out every once in a while. Sorry, Carrie."

“I wonder how many other kids even know what compulsory heterosexuality _means,”_ Carrie says thoughtfully. 

"I wonder how many other kids have two awesome dads who took way too long to get together because they didn't realize what they could have had," Troy counters. 

"And it took your Uncle Jeff and Aunt Annie even longer than it took us," Abed adds. 

"Is this just a segue because you miss your friends and want to talk about _them_ now?" Carrie asks. 

"Probably. But not until we get the details of this dance," Troy says. "Now, spill." 

Carrie breaks into a huge grin.

"I _am_ going with someone," she squeals. "They asked me today at school. I told them I had to check with you before saying yes. You can meet them when they pick me up for the dance, okay?" 

_"Them,"_ says Abed. 

"They’re non-binary," Carrie explains. "Also, I'm gonna need a dress." 

"We'll go this weekend!" declares Troy. "Be prepared for us to take lots of pictures, too. You're, like, all grown up now." 

"Don't _say_ that," Abed groans. "It's too soon. Next thing you know she'll be learning to drive." 

* * *

**[PHOTO:**

**_Carrie, 15, is in the driver’s seat of a car giving a thumbs up to the camera with one hand and holding up her learner’s permit with the other. Abed is in the driver’s seat, eyes very, very wide, looking like he is about to meet his death._ ]**

Jeff keeps getting texts from Abed asking where he is, and he keeps replying saying that he’s almost to their house. Apparently Carrie passed her written test and is the proud new owner of a learner’s permit, and she’s antsy to have her first driving lesson, and Troy and Abed are stalling her until Jeff gets there. 

Finally, finally, his Uber pulls up in their driveway, and he can see Carrie and Abed in the car and Troy taking a picture of them. Jeff grabs his suitcase and heads towards them.

 _“Uncle Jeff!”_ Carrie screeches, jumping out of the car and running into his arms. “I didn’t know you were coming to visit!”

“Hey, kid,” he says, hugging her and ruffling her curls just a little, but not enough to mess them up. “God, when did you get old enough to drive? Your dads invited me to come visit so I could teach you how. Apparently neither of them felt comfortable doing it.”

“That’s so sweet!” she exclaims. “I feel so much better about this all of a sudden.”

“You don’t trust your dads?” Jeff asks, frowning.

“I trust them with my life,” Carrie says. “And they obviously know that, and that’s why they invited you. Have you _seen_ them drive?”

Without waiting for an answer, she hops back to where Troy and Abed are standing next to the car and gives each of them a huge hug. Jeff can see the incredible relief on both of their faces, and he’s glad that this worked out. 

He makes his way over to them and gives them hugs of his own, and Troy takes his bag inside, and Abed hands him the keys to their car. Carrie is practically vibrating with excitement.

“There’s a park down the street,” Abed says. “And a neighborhood. That might be a good place to start.”

“Thanks,” Jeff says. “Don’t worry, Abed. We’ll be fine. I promise.”

“I know,” Abed says. “It’s just…”

“She’s your kid. I know. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

He gives Abed another hug for good measure; double hugs are kind of their thing. Then he follows Carrie back to the car and hands her the keys.

She’s a good listener; she clearly wants to do this right. The whole time they practice driving, he can’t help but notice how much of Troy and Abed she embodies. The way she wears her emotions on her face like Troy, her eyes growing wide and a squeal escaping her mouth whenever she forgets which pedal is which or hits the windshield wipers instead of the turn signal. Her intense Abed-like concentration with each task that Jeff gives her, and the way she tilts her head in response to his questions. 

Slowly she begins to get the hang of it, at least enough that Jeff can start a conversation while they practice and she doesn’t shush him to keep from getting confused. They creep around the streets in a small neighborhood where there is little traffic and few obstacles, just giving her a chance to get comfortable behind the wheel. 

“Want to just stay in this area for a little while?” Jeff asks. “And you can just practice what you’ve learned so far.”

“Cool,” Carrie says, her eyes glued to the road in front of her. “Cool, cool, cool.” Jeff can’t stop himself from grinning.

“Your dads are so proud of you, you know,” Jeff says, after they’ve been driving silently for a few minutes.

“I know,” Carrie says. “They tell me all the time.”

“Good,” Jeff says. “Because you’re a pretty awesome kid.”

It warms his heart so much to know that Troy and Abed are the kind of dads that make sure their daughter knows how much they love her, how much she means to them. He should have known all along that they would be great parents -- they both love so fully and intensely, both care so deeply, both cherish the things that are important to them. No wonder they’re nailing this parenting thing.

“Am I like them?” Carrie asks suddenly. “I mean, I know _physically_ I don’t look a whole lot like them or anything, but…”

“You’re so much like them, Carrie,” Jeff says. “Anyone would know you’re related, just by the way you talk, and think, and the way you react to things. It’s totally obvious.”

“That’s good,” she says, a smile spreading across her face. “I’m really proud of them, too, you know.”

* * *

**[PHOTO:**

**_Carrie onstage at her high school graduation. She is 17 years old and wearing a navy blue cap and gown, diploma in one hand, a huge grin on her face. She has one arm up in the air like John Bender at the end of_ ** **The Breakfast Club.** **_This is a professionally printed photo, added in after the rest of the photos in the album, and has a slightly different look. The bottom has a few smudged spots where Troy and Abed’s tears have stained the photo._ ]**

Everyone comes for Carrie’s graduation: Aunt Annie, Uncle Jeff and Uncle Craig, Aunt Shirley, Aunt Britta, and Aunt Frankie.

“There are more aunts here than in _The Handmaid’s Tale,”_ Carrie cracks, and at least Aunt Britta thinks it’s hilarious. 

They all come over for brunch the morning of graduation, and her dads have the meal catered because neither of them are very good at cooking for more people than just their little family. Everyone brings presents for Carrie.

Aunt Annie gives her a fancy expensive planner with a custom cover printed with photos of Carrie, her dads, and all the other aunts and uncles that are with them right now. It’s beautiful and practical, just like Aunt Annie.

Aunt Shirley gives her a box of homemade brownies in a bunch of different flavors, and there’s a note on top of the box declaring that no one is allowed to take any without Carrie’s permission. Clearly Shirley knows that without such a warning, Dad will steal as many as he can when no one is looking.

Aunt Britta gives her some books on feminism and empowerment that are specifically geared towards new high school graduates, and Carrie promises to read them, and she thinks she probably actually will, sometime when she’s missing Aunt Britta and wants to feel closer to her.

Aunt Frankie gives her a new backpack to take to college, and it’s super cute and has a lot of pockets, and Carrie thinks that Aunt Frankie is the only person in the world who regularly gives her wearable gifts that are always completely awesome and fit her exact style. Carrie doesn’t know how she does it.

Uncle Jeff and Uncle Craig give her a photo album filled with printed pictures that her dads have either posted on Facebook or emailed to them since the day she was born. They tell her she can take it to college or she can leave it at home -- whoever needs it more should have it. She thinks it’ll probably end up staying at home, and she appreciates that, because her dads _will_ need it, and they’re both already starting to cry just thinking about it, even Baba, who almost never cries.

After brunch they drive to the auditorium, and it’s a typical graduation, boring and full of speeches. But when Carrie crosses the stage with her diploma, she can see her family taking up almost a whole row and standing and waving and cheering, and she’s overwhelmed by their love and support, and she thinks she’s maybe the luckiest person in the world.

That night, she presents the album to her dads and asks them to take care of it for her. Baba accepts it with a solemn, “Thank you,” and Dad bursts into tears, and she’s glad they’re still acting like themselves, even in the wake of all the change about to take place.

She’ll be leaving for college in a couple of months, living on her own for the first time, and she wonders how her dads will manage without her. She’s heard stories of the time they spent living with Aunt Annie, and the shenanigans they got up to. She’s also heard stories of the time they spent living together before she was born, just the two of them. She wonders if it’ll be like that again for them.

What she does know is that they’ll have each other, and that’s all they’ve ever needed. She’s an extra bonus, and she knows she’s the most important thing to both of them, they’ve never made her doubt that for a second. But she also knows they can manage without her at home -- as long as they’re together. 

* * *

Troy shuts the photo album and lays his head on Abed’s shoulder. Abed kisses him lightly on the top of his head.

“It’s going to be fine, right?” Troy asks.

“She’s going to do great,” Abed assures him.

“What about us?” Troy presses.

 _“Troy and Abed: empty nesters,”_ sings Abed, and Troy smiles and snuggles closer.


End file.
